


Just Wing It

by GemNika



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friend as Step-Parent, CoLu Week 2018, Family Fluff, Father Figures, Gen, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemNika/pseuds/GemNika
Summary: Erik knows he'll never win any awards for parenting, but he's not going to let a little stage fright stop his daughter from being the ballerina she wants to be.CoLu Week 2018, Day 6: Pilot.





	Just Wing It

Erik shuffled sideways down the aisle full of bustling dancer-parents to the empty seat beside his friend of more than thirty years, Macbeth. Even all these years later, the man he'd known since kindergarten was still wearing that god-awful makeup. At least it helped him stick out in the crowd of unfamiliar faces.

Erik didn't know any of these people. Macbeth did, though. He was currently in a very deep conversation about the quality of ballet slippers, and which stores carried the highest quality for the best prices. Erik knew nothing about any of that. He didn't really care about the price of ballet slippers, or pointe shoes, or the difference between Capezio and Theatricals tap shoes. Or why so many of the women were obsessing over the constitution of leotards, and how best to patch a tear right before a recital when there was no time to stop at the store and pick up a new one.

Well, he supposed, as he took his seat and Macbeth took note of his appearance, he should probably care about those things.

This was his own daughter's dance recital, after all.

"I'm surprised you made it," Macbeth said, turning toward him with wide coal-rimmed eyes and flawless lashes.

"You saved me a seat," Erik muttered. He pulled at the scarf he'd wrapped around himself three times over to combat the frosty December air in the parking lot.

"I always save a seat for you," Macbeth said. "That doesn't mean you ever come."

Erik winced and glanced around to see a few other parents staring at him. Did they know which of the girls was his daughter? Did they assume he was just some pervert, because he'd yet to come to one of her dance recitals? It really wasn't his fault. He wanted to come. Every single time she had something special that she was doing, he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to see it. To be a real dad.

The only problem was work. And the fact that he was a single parent. And that his Little Bean's mother left them when she was barely two years old for some other man, to raise  _that guy's_  kids instead of her own daughter.

"You know I want to come," he muttered. Erik shimmied off his grey peacoat and removed his beanie. He brushed his fingers through his hair that was nearly down to his shoulders, spiking it up the way he preferred it.

"How many layers are you even wearing?" Macbeth laughed.

"Thirty seven," Erik said. He shot his best friend a smirk. "Thanks for getting her into this shit, man."

Macbeth's plum lips pursed and his eyes narrowed slightly. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic."

"I'm not. Really… I appreciate it. And everything you do for us."

He shrugged then and looked back toward the curtains still pulled closed over the stage. Erik knew that Macbeth hated the few times he got sentimental. Honestly, he didn't enjoy it that much either. But this was important. He really did appreciate everything Macbeth had done for him. And for Cynthia, his sweet little angel who didn't deserve the half-assed card she'd been dealt in the parent department.

"Anyway, she'll be happy to know you're here," Macbeth said. "But let's keep it a secret for now."

"Okay?"

"Her instructor says she's having issues with stage fright," Macbeth said. "We're hoping she'll get through the performance alright."

"She will," Erik chuckled. "My little girl's a total badass."

"Excuse me, sir, but could you watch your language?" a woman sitting in the row behind them asked quietly. "There are other children present."

Erik blinked and looked around. There was a baby four rows away, already sleeping, and a group of toddlers running around at the far end of the auditorium. Finally, he looked back at her. "No," he said slowly. "I'm not interested in your Mary Kay products, but thanks for asking."

"That's not-"

Macbeth elbowed him in the side, then turned and smiled at her. "Brittany, this is Cynthia's dad. Erik."

Her jaw dropped and she sat back a little. His eyes closed and he counted down from three in his head, waiting for the standard fare of conversation starters with his line of work.

"Oh, thank you for your service," she said. "You're in the Army?"

"Air Force," he said. "I'm a fighter pilot."

"And Brittany here's a divorcée," Macbeth cut in. "And she does a mean cross-stitch."

"You're so painfully domestic sometimes," Erik sighed.

"This is entirely your fault," Macbeth shrugged. "I cook and clean and raise your daughter, and in return I get to live in your house for free. You've made me into a  _housewife_."

"Without the ring," Erik chuckled. "You're my house  _mistress_ , man." He didn't even care that he got punched in the arm. Or that it actually hurt. Erik knew that Macbeth wasn't actually upset by it. "If I could get you on my insurance, I would in a heartbeat."

"Whatever," Macbeth shrugged, turning his attention back to the stage as the lights dimmed three times to let everyone know the performance was about to begin. "You pay for my insurance as it is."

"Dick," Erik snorted. He was still smiling as the house lights dimmed a final time and the spotlight shined down on the closed curtains.

"There are two classes before hers," Macbeth said softly.

Well, that meant that Erik had a few minutes to make sure his phone was ready to take a video, and to just generally fuck around. He didn't give a rat's ass about any of the other kids. Just his little Cynthia in her precious little tutu, doing some sort of ballet routine that he just knew was going to melt his heart.

* * *

Macbeth looked down at his phone just as the first performance ended, and frowned as he read a text message. He typed back a quick response, then stared at his phone and waited.

"Everything alright?" Erik whispered.

"Cynthia's instructor texted me," he said. "She says she doesn't want to do it."

Erik frowned. "How come?"

"Stage fright," Macbeth said, rolling his eyes. "I told you already. She's shy."

Erik didn't miss the very heavily implied,  _You'd know that if you weren't such a shitty father_.

"It's pretty crippling, actually," Macbeth sighed, looking back down at his phone. "It's why she's taking dance in the first place. To help her come out of her shell."

"And is it working?" Erik whispered. The second performance seemed like it would be wrapping up soon, but he hadn't a clue if that was the case.

"She's been in dance for two years now," Macbeth sighed, glaring at him again. "This is the first performance she's freaked out about since her first one."

He was officially the worst father in the world. In the history of all things. Not even Harry Wormwood's super-glued bumpers and  _I'm smart, you're dumb, I'm big, you're little_  rant could trump the level of horrible parenting Erik had reached with his inattentive bullshit with his own fucking daughter. His only child. His sweet little princess.

Or was she into ninjas now?

Fuck, he didn't know! But he was going to find out, damnit!

"She's backstage?" he whispered. Macbeth nodded, and Erik shoved his phone back into his pocket while he stood from his seat. "Be right back."

Macbeth grabbed the sleeve of his sweater and hissed, "Where are you going?"

Erik crouched down so he didn't block anyone's view. With a heavy glare, he said, "I'm going back there to help my daughter. I've been a shit dad for too long."

"You're a great dad," Macbeth said, tugging at his sleeve again. "Now sit down."

"Fuck off," Erik spat quietly while pulling his arm away from Macbeth's clutches. He made his way down the row of seats, sending quick apologies to everyone whose legs he brushed against. Finally, he reached the end and dashed to the stairs on stage left leading up to where the dancers were warming up.

Erik pushed through the curtain, his head swivelling one way and another in search of his daughter. He hadn't a clue what any of the other girls in her class looked like. He didn't even know what her teacher looked like. Or what the woman's name was. Or if it even  _was_  a woman.

"Excuse me, sir, but you can't be back here."

Erik's attention shifted to a blonde woman wearing a black leotard, and a pale pink tulle skirt and tights. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. "Good, a grownup," he sighed. "I need to find Cynthia."

He was not going to stare at her chest. He was able to see the tightening in the corners of her eyes that way. Well, he took note of it, and then looked over her shoulder to keep searching for his daughter. "And who are you?"

He couldn't find her purple hair anywhere in the throng of little ballerinas. He didn't even know if it was pulled into a bun or pigtails like a flock of girls to the left who were stretching their legs on the floor by doing splits. Erik placed his hands on the woman's shoulders and gently moved her to the side, then walked past her. "Cynthia," he whisper-shouted. He really didn't want to cause a scene. Or ruin the dance that was happening on the stage.

"Sir, you can't just-"

"Daddy?"

Erik's head snapped to the left, and he found her. Sitting on a director's chair off in the corner with tears in her bright indigo eyes. His steps were quick and sure while making his way toward her with a wide grin. A bun. Her hair was in a bun. Now he knew. "There's my little angel." He laughed when she smiled through her tears and vaulted from the seat, crashing into his legs a moment later.

"Daddy, you came!"

"Of course I came," he chuckled. Erik bent down and picked her up, laughing again when she latched onto him as though he'd disappear. He turned to find the blonde woman frowning at him. "My name's Erik."

Cynthia pulled back and smiled at the woman. "Miss Lucy, this is my Daddy! He stopped work and came!" She turned to look at Erik. "Daddy, Miss Lucy's my teacher."

Lucy's stern expression melted in a matter of seconds, and she smiled at Erik, extending her hand for him to shake. "It's nice to meet you," she said as he accepted her hand. "But you really shouldn't be back here."

"Macbeth told me that he got a text from you," he said. "Something about her not wanting to dance."

Lucy sighed and looked at Cynthia, finding her cheek pressed tightly against Erik's shoulder and her legs latched onto his waist. "It's just a little bit of nerves," she said. "Cynthia's gonna do a great job."

"Daddy, I don't wanna," Cynthia whimpered.

"Sweetie," Lucy said gently, "You know I'll be up there with you guys. If you forget any of the steps, you just look at me, and copy what I do."

Erik met Cynthia's glistening gaze, and shook his head. "She's right. I wanna see you dance. And you know,  _I_  don't know if the moves are right. I'll only be watching you."

"You won't make fun?" she asked.

Erik's jaw dropped. Did she really think he'd tease her for messing up? "Never," he said.

Lucy looked over the group of girls around them. "Cynthia, it's time to get into position."

Cynthia looked at her father for another moment, then over to Lucy. "Okay," she said. Erik kissed her cheek and set her down, but he didn't take his eyes off of her. She didn't sound all that enthused about dancing. "You'll be watching?"

"Every second of it," he said. "And Macbeth is in the audience, recording it. He says you like watching it afterwards."

She hugged him again and rushed off to stand with a gaggle of little girls in pink tutus, and Erik sighed. He was a total failure. He didn't see Lucy's smile just before she turned away and helped to get the little ballerinas into position. He was far too focused on watching Cynthia. His little girl was growing up so much already, and he'd missed out on all of it.

Maybe it really was time for him to consider retiring. Getting a normal job that wouldn't have him gone for months on end in other countries while she stayed stateside and lived her life with his best friend acting as her father.

* * *

Erik didn't return to his seat. He stayed backstage and watched from there as Cynthia's class did an adorable little routine full of pirouettes and  _jetés_  that were all over the place. And through it all, he'd finally gotten to see his daughter perform in more than just a video. He got to see  _her_  doing it. Right there in front of him. And Erik didn't give a damn that she messed up on one pirouette and landed a little weird. She got herself right back into position with the other girls and kept going.

He hadn't known that she was going to stay on stage all by herself when the routine was finished and the curtain closed. Well, Lucy was there with her. Were they doing a duet then? Macbeth hadn't told him about this. Fuck, he wanted to be down in the audience watching it, so he could see her face while she danced!

Except then Cynthia pulled on Lucy's hand, and Lucy bent down in front of her and her brows drew together. And through it all, Erik watched the tension rising in his daughter's shoulders. He might not have been around for a lot of her life, and he might have missed her dance recitals and a birthday or two, but he knew when she was about to cry. Even when he couldn't see her face, he knew. She had a tell. Maybe it was something he'd picked up from being in the military, but he understood body language, and the tightness of her shoulders, the way her left foot shifted two inches back… She was going to cry.

Lucy gently took Cynthia's hands into her own just before Erik could rush onto the stage and grab his daughter to take her home. He froze when he saw the way Lucy smiled at her, kissed her little knuckles. He couldn't read lips all that well, but he had a feeling that Lucy was telling Cynthia,  _You can do it. Be brave._

It's what he would have said to her.

Lucy brushed her thumbs across Cynthia's cheeks and stood, then nodded to the stage hand to lift the curtain. They both got into position with their feet turned outward and the right foot in front of the left.

He knew Cynthia could do this. He just knew it.

The music started, and she clutched tightly to Lucy's hand while they started to dance. Her movements were clunky, much less graceful than when the rest of her class had been around her. If they knew that Cynthia had stage fright like this, why would she be put on the spot and made to do a performance where she was the only one being watched?

Erik shuffled from on foot to the other, chewing on his thumb as the seconds ticked by. She froze when she was supposed to do a pirouette with Lucy. He was just happy that she was too young to dance on the tips of her toes. She could've gotten hurt with the sudden jolt of not moving an inch. He wasn't sure if she was even breathing.

Lucy stopped dancing, and tried to coax Cynthia into moving along with her, but it didn't work. His heart ached for his daughter, and it only worsened when her head dropped and he heard the first stirrings of a whimper from where he stood.

"Hell no," he muttered under his breath. Cynthia wasn't going to give up. And she wasn't going to cry. Not if he had any say in the matter.

Because even though Erik wasn't around as much as he should've been, it didn't mean he wasn't aware of how much she loved dancing. She'd been doing it ever since she could crawl. When she learned how to stand, he watched videos of her using the furniture to keep herself stable while she bounced along to Frozen on the television. When she was able to walk, he saw videos of her trying to mimic Dracula's dancing in Hotel Transylvania.

When she was just three years old, Macbeth sent him a video of her saying,  _I wa'be barrina, Daddy_ , and then she spun in a circle in her little princess dress. He'd showed it to everyone in his unit overseas. And then everyone in the chow hall that he didn't know. He didn't give a shit what they were doing. His daughter wanted to be a ballerina. She was fucking precious.

But now she  _was_  a ballerina, and this was her chance to show everyone that she was a total badass. When Erik heard her sniffle, saw how she wiped her eyes and turned away from the gathered parents who were starting to murmur, he jogged out onto the stage. He didn't care about any of them.

"Baby Bean, what's wrong?" he asked, kneeling in front of her.

"I don't wanna do it," she whimpered. "It's… It's too scary."

"It's not scary at all," he said gently. "Miss Lucy's with you, right?"

Cynthia nodded, looking deeply into his eyes. God, he was so happy she'd gotten his eyes. He could read her so fucking well. "Everyone's watching."

Erik smirked at her, and brushed away her tears just as they started to fall. "Fuck them," he whispered. "Their kids suck at dancing."

She giggled, and he was only vaguely aware of her teacher glaring at him.

"So why don't we show them how awesome you are?" he asked. Erik looked up at Lucy, his smirk widening only slightly. "Is it okay if she starts over?"

Lucy's lips pursed, but she looked back at Cynthia and relaxed her shoulders before she spoke. "Would you want to start again?"

"I-I dunno," Cynthia said. Erik leaned forward and whispered in her ear, and she drew back to stare at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

He nodded, his smile never leaving. "For you? Of course."

Finally, Cynthia smiled. She turned back to Lucy. "I'll do it," she said. "I'll be brave." She watched as Lucy walked off stage to talk with the crew, and placed her hand in Erik's.

Once Lucy was with them again, she took her position by Cynthia. Her brows drew together in confusion when Erik didn't leave the stage. Instead, he held onto Cynthia's other hand and slowly got his feet into the same starting position as them. "What are you doing?" she laughed. It was obvious he didn't know what he was doing, technically speaking. He'd never really danced a day in his life, with the exception of his wedding.

"She'll dance if I'm with her," he said. "So, here I am."

The music started, and he kept his gaze on Lucy to follow her lead, just like Cynthia did. His turns weren't graceful. His  _jetés_  were atrocious, and his  _brisé_ looked as though he was running in the air. But Erik was much more concerned with the sudden smile on his daughter's face when she looked up at him instead of over at Lucy.

And he was never more proud of her than in that moment, when she stopped watching Lucy entirely and looked out into the crowd. Lucy surprised him by grabbing his hand when Cynthia took a step away from them.

"Don't think you're getting out of this now," she whispered. Erik chuckled and followed her lead, dancing behind his daughter while she performed a solo. Luckily, it was just a few  _pliés_. He could handle those.

He didn't know what the move was called when she went started turning in one place with her leg sticking out to the side to give her more momentum. What he did know what that it looked like she should be getting dizzy. But she just kept turning. On her toes, leg out then pulled in, arms in front of her.

Every time he got a quick glimpse of her face, his daughter was smiling. She was happy. Proud. And he was right there with her.

She stumbled a little bit when she came out of the final turn, but Cynthia corrected her footing and held her position just as the song ended. The audience cheered. They roared for her. Erik was only able to give her a little time to bow before he rushed forward and scooped her up into his arms.

"Best dancer in the world," he said in her ear, making sure she could hear him. "I'm so proud of you."

Cynthia hugged him back with all the strength she possessed. She turned to look at the audience when he set her down on her feet, then grabbed his hand and grinned up at him. "Bow, Daddy. You danced, so you have to bow."

Lucy held Cynthia's other hand, and they all looked at the crowd, then bowed low. Erik didn't want people cheering for him. All he'd done was help his daughter dance. But, if she wanted him to bow, then that was what he'd damn well do for her.

The curtain closed and they stood to their full height. Instantly, Cynthia jumped up into his arms again, and he walked with Lucy off the stage so the next dancers could take their places.

"Cynthia," Lucy said, turning back to face them, "You have one more dance with the girls. Can you go help them stretch and get some water?"

Cynthia nodded and kissed Erik's cheek, then made her way over to the group of girls that he could only assume were in her class.

"Thank you," Lucy said. "She's been wanting to do a solo for a while, but she's so shy we didn't know if she'd be able to do it."

He nodded and walked a little further from the stage with her. "That's what Macbeth tells me," he said. "Well, not about the solo. I didn't know she had one."

"I've never seen you at a recital before," she said carefully. Ah, the dreaded question. Why was he never around? She didn't ask him outright, which was a small saving grace, because there were people who really did ask why he was never there for his daughter. He wanted to punch those assholes right in the fucking face.

"Well, Macbeth is usually the one taking care of her," he said. His gaze slid over to his daughter, and he found her taking a sip of water from a bottle with her name on it in bright green, sparkling letters.

"Yes, he's there for every rehearsal," she laughed. "Some of the mothers were a little wary of him at first."

"It's the makeup," Erik said. "I keep telling him to cut it out, but he just stares at me, and then he keeps contouring."

Lucy threw a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. She took a moment to collect herself before speaking again. "Well, I'm sure Cynthia's happy that you came today."

"I am, too," he said. Finally, he looked back at her. "It's a whole lot better, being able to see her dancing right here. Videos just aren't the same."

"Well, we do try to make sure the recitals are at a manageable time for parents," she said, frowning. "Is there a time that would work better for you with your schedule?"

Erik gave her a sad chuckle. "Not unless you only want to have these once a year." She looked a little confused, and he could only assume that Macbeth had never actually told her what he did for a living. Considering she hadn't known that he was Cynthia's father, maybe Lucy had thought that Macbeth was her dad. He'd been more of a father to her than Erik had ever been, that was for sure. "I'm a fighter pilot in the Air Force," he said. "And I'm usually deployed for at least ten months out of the year. Even when I'm back home, they send me to training and…"

Her brows furrowed as he brushed a hand through his hair. It really was too long to fit military standards, but he'd gotten it to grow out just long enough to tie back and tuck under his cap while in uniform, so they couldn't make him cut it.

"I miss everything," he said. "And if it wasn't for my best friend stepping up to help me raise her when my wife left us, I don't know what we would've done."

"I never knew that," Lucy said. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her eyes widening slightly when her fingers flexed around his bicep. "You said your wife left?"

"When Cynthia was two," Erik said. "She ran out on us." He didn't usually like talking about this, but if Cynthia was going to stay in Lucy's classes, he supposed it was a good idea to let the woman know about her home life.

Lucy pulled her hand away, tucking it behind her back. "Well, maybe after the recital, we can talk some more," she said with a teasing smile. "I've gotta herd some cats."

Erik laughed and turned away from her. He caught Cynthia's eye and pointed toward the curtain. "I'll see you out there," he said. She nodded and he finally made his way back down the stairs and into the auditorium to take his still-empty seat beside Macbeth. Once he was seated again, he sighed and let himself relax. He hadn't realized just how tense he'd been.

Macbeth leaned over slightly and whispered, "I got all of that on video. You are officially the father of the year."

"No way," Erik snorted. He was the furthest thing from a good dad. Or even a decent one. All he did was make sure his daughter got to dance. And sure, he always made sure that she had money for food and clothes, a roof over her head. There was always someone there for her, namely Macbeth. But Erik was never there to teach her anything. He was never there for her to turn to with questions.

But just this once, he'd been there. And she'd looked so happy to have him there for her, helping her get through her dance. He was going to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible.

_**.The End.** _


End file.
